Crush
by YouPeopleAreSoPettyAndTiny
Summary: When the summer ended, Isabella's family moved to Europe so her mother could study Culinary Arts in Italia. Now the kids are sixteen and she's been back for five months. Her relationship with Phineas has changed, but they still can't quite bring themselves to confess their feelings. Our story starts on the last day of junior year… And then it's back off to Europe!
1. Chapter 1

**AN:**

When the Summer ended, Isabella's family moved to Europe so her mother could study Culinary Arts in Italia. Now the kids are sixteen and she's been back for five months. Her relationship with Phineas has changed, but they still can't quite bring themselves to confess their feelings. Our story starts on the last day of junior year…

Title based off of David Archuleta's Crush.

**DISCLAIMER: **I own nothing. NOTHING, I TELL YOU!

**Phineas' POV**

The last day of school was always a drag (A whole day at school and we learn nothing! What sense did that make?) At least it was a half-day. That meant we had the other half of the day to spend at Isabella's pool. Her family had opted not to sell their house when they left for five years to Italy, since they assumed they would return. Luckily they did, and now Ferb and I ate dinner across the street as often as Mom would let us. I'd always had a thing for Italian food, but Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro's new cooking skills were something else. Something else that would be served at the party tonight, which made my afternoon plans all the more exciting.

I strode quickly to my last class, which was also my favorite: AP Physics C. I was going to miss this one next year. I had practically taught the class with Isabella, which Mr. Hardcastle was more than happy to let us do. Besides, I think Isabella got a couple Fireside Girl patches for it, so she wouldn't have let him object if he'd wanted to.

Despite my desire to get to class early, a few classmates stopped me in the hall to exchange yearbook signatures, and so I ended up walking in to door two seconds after the final bell rang. Isabella was at the teacher's desk taking attendance on the computer (I wasn't kidding when I said we taught the class.) She turned when she heard the door shut and beamed at me.

"Whatcha doin' late to class? I think I might have to mark you tardy," she teased.

I grinned back slyly, dropping my bag next to hers below the whiteboard, and leaned on the back of her chair. "Isn't there anything I could do to change your mind?" I asked innocently. I tucked a stray bit of her long, black hair back into place behind her ear and I could have sworn I felt her cheek warm under my hand. She had always been cute (dangerously cute, as we had discovered in our battle against Mitch) but during her time abroad she had become frighteningly beautiful, more woman than girl. I wasn't sure why, but I was glad the class wasn't paying any attention to us. I was suddenly quite grateful for the inherently distractible nature of teenagers in anticipation of impending freedom.

"Hmm, I'll let you know if I come up with anything." She turned back to the computer to finish attendance, the edges of her mouth still pulled up in a small smile.

I began passing around the donuts that Hardcastle had bought for the party and then Isabella helped me distribute sodas. Then we endured a Q and A session involving inquiries about our legendary plans for this summer, which was something that she hadn't experienced yet, although by that point I was well accustomed to it. I didn't understand why our classmates bothered asking, however, as we normally didn't decide on a day's activities until breakfast on the morning of.

When the final bell rang, Isabella and I walked to my car where Ferb was already waiting for us. The three of us had been driving to school together nearly every day since Isabella had moved back. I drove today, with her riding shotgun and Ferb in the back seat, manning the sound system that we had added over spring break. We pulled out of the parking lot blaring music from a program that was designed to play music that matched the crowd's mood. By the sound of things, they were thrilled to be done with the school year.

I dropped Ferb at home and went across the street with Isabella to help set up. The two of us had gotten pretty close since she moved back, and we practically lived in each other's houses by now. Most days I went straight from school to her house, and sometimes on the weekends she would stay over at my place so late that she wouldn't even bother to go home. I kept tools at her house in case I had a sudden idea that couldn't wait for the walk to my yard, and she in turn had essentially taken over Candace's room now that my sister was away at college. Ferb didn't mind that we hung out all the time, he said, because he spent most of his time video chatting with his girlfriend, Vanessa, who was at college with Candace.

Isabella and I dropped our school bags in the coat closet (where they would likely remain for at least a week or two) before heading to Isabella's room.

"You left this here the other day." She picked up a piece of orange fabric from her desk and tossed it to me. Much to my embarrassment, I caught my swim trunks.

"Oh. Um, thanks." I stammered, sitting on her bed, which had been upgraded to a queen-size since we were younger. She kicked off her sandals and went to her closet.

"Okay," she muttered. "Should I wear my bikini with the while polka-dots or the one that's solid pink?"

"I like the pink one best." I responded. I wondered absently what it said about our relationship that she was asking me for my opinion on her wardrobe.

"I do, too. Now leave so I can change." She took my hand and led me out the door.

I took my own suit with me and changed in the bathroom, stuffing my clothes in my bag before returning to her room. She sat at her vanity, long legs crossed, braiding her hair back. She smiled at me in the mirror and stood to face me.

"Do I look party worthy?" she asked, doing a spin to let me take in the whole view. She had wound a pink ribbon into the braid and added a small, blue wrap around her hips.

"Less fit for a party, more for a catwalk." I answered approvingly. She smiled and took my hand again, pulling me down the hall to the kitchen where we shuttled hors d'oeuvres from the kitchen to the patio. I then turned on the stereo that Ferb and I had rigged with our own personal radio station specifically for the occasion.

Normally Ferb and I threw the end-of-school extravaganza for all of our friends, but Isabella had requested that we let her take over this year. I quickly regretted handing over the party planning, as she had immediately declared that the bash would be invention-free, to celebrate that we could do whatever we wanted with our summer, even be _normal_. A small project for the music was the only thing I had been able to bargain for, which she very well knew would drive me to the edge of my sanity, but I let her have her way. I couldn't deny her anything she wanted.

Ferb soon came over, letting himself through the gate, and went inside to help Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro with dinner prep. We had about half an hour before the party guests were due, so Isabella decided to slip into the pool for the time being. She ditched her blue wrap on the deck chairs and swam a few laps while I sat at the pool's edge with my legs hanging in the water, staring at the horizon. The sun wouldn't go down for another two hours or so, but the sky was already turning different colors. I could tell it was going to be a fun night.

Suddenly, Isabella shot up out of the water in front of me and pulled in. I came up sputtering in shock while she swam away, laughing her head off. Grinning mischievously, I went back underwater, pushed violently off the wall, and popped back up right under her. She screamed with surprise and threw her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist to avoid being launched out of the water. Her scream quickly turned to more laughter, so I knew I wasn't in trouble. I twisted her around so she was cradled in my arms and waded across the pool to the stairs.

She rested her head on my shoulder as I forced my way through the water. "Did I ever tell you how much I missed you the last few years?"

I smiled down at her. "What, there no eccentric redheads where you were?"

She grimaced. "Well, there was one. But he was a _different_ kind of eccentric, if you know what I mean."

"Oh. Stalker-eccentric?"

"Stalker-eccentric."

I laughed. "You know something?" I started softly. "My family went to London last summer to visit Dad's parents, and there must have been more than a dozen nights that I nearly went to see you. I don't know how I talked myself out of it. I think I convinced myself that you wouldn't _want_ to see me."

"Phineas, why on Earth would I _not_ have wanted to see you?"

"I don't know. I figured you were probably happy where you were and didn't need reminders of where you'd been."

She smiled warmly. "Trust me when I say that hardly a day went by that I didn't wish was here, working on some plan with you." There was a pause. She blinked. "A-and Ferb. Working on plans with you and Ferb."

I distantly heard the doorbell ring, which reminded me I was still carrying Isabella, even though we'd been standing at the edge of the stairs for some time. I set her but she kept my hand as we climbed out of the pool. Together, we went to greet the first party guests.


	2. Chapter 2

When I woke up the next morning, I found myself reclined on the couch in Isabella's living room with Isabella curled up in my lap, head on my shoulder, fast asleep. The TV was mute static, not having been turned off after we finished whatever we had watched last night. Our friends had conked out in various places around the room: Ferb was is the rocking chair, Buford and Baljeet were curled up rather adorably on the loveseat, and the Fireside Girls were in a heap of pillows and blankets on the rug in the center of the room. The rest of the party-goers had left at around midnight. The first lights of dawn were peeking through the open window behind the couch. Considering when I remembered starting the movie, I must only have been out for a couple of hours.

I looked back down to Isabella and froze, waking up enough to fully register how we were sprawled out. This wasn't exactly an unusual way for me to wake up in the morning (it had happened a couple of times over spring break and the weekends since) but the number of articles of clothing per capita was usually higher between the two of us when it did happen. We were both still in our bathing suits, which meant there was plenty of skin contact, even more than was typical for the two of us.

I tried to pick her up to shift her into a position that would be more comfortable for her, but she instead grabbed my hand and muttered something under her breath with a smile, still fully entrenched in her dream world. I sighed and – since she didn't appear to be unhappy where she was at – decided to let her sleep where she was. I tightened my arms around her and rested my head on top of hers. Her hair always smelled incredible, like strawberries an orchids, and, sometimes after a long day of working in my backyard, sawdust. I thought was the perfect combination. Staring unseeingly at the moving gray lines on the TV screen, I let my thoughts drift where they may.

Somehow my thoughts led me to our trip around the world. It had happened years ago, a few months before Isabella moved away, when we were still kids with the sole goal of having the best summer ever. My mind lingered over the memories of our stop in Europe, Paris to be exact, and when I had gone off to look for plane parts with the girl now snoring softly against my bare chest. Even though I had been too concerned with making it back home before sundown to make the most of the situation, I had really enjoyed the ability to spend that time with her. Thinking about it, I found myself feeling a strange longing to have that again.

"Phineas?" Isabella mumbled against my collarbone as I pondered that point. I reached my hand up to brush the hair out of her face.

"You awake, Isabella?"

"Mhmm," she nodded, sitting up and stretching her arms. I had to drop my gaze for a moment, since she didn't seem to realize how close this action put her chest to my face. She rolled backward so she was laying down, her legs across my lap and her feet over the edge of the armrest. "Whatcha doin' up so early?"

I smiled. That was what she had said to me before we left for our trip around the world. "I was just thinking."

"About what?"

I pondered my idea for a moment before deciding that it might actually be a good idea. "Just how much of Europe did you see while you were away?"

She thought for a few seconds before responding, "Not much. We went to Rome, but I never got to see Verona… or much else outside of Italy. Why do you ask?"

I grinned. Perfect. "My parents are going to be out of town for two weeks next month and I have nothing slated in ideas for that time yet. How would you like to take a tour of Europe? We could start in London, make our way down to the tip of the Italian Peninsula, and stop at some of the biggest cities in the continent along the way. We could even stop at some of the places you lived so you can see your friends."

Isabella's face brightened. "Really? That would be incredible!"

Her response made my smile broader. "Excellent." We may have been a bit too enthusiastic because Ferb opened his eyes at that point and gave me a look that told me he was irritated with me for waking him. My brother rose from his seat, stretched, and went into the kitchen. The rattling coming from the fridge suggested that he was making breakfast. Great! I was starving.

Well Ferb worked, I excused myself briefly to run across the street and collect a change of clothes for him and clean myself up. When I came back, breakfast was nearly ready, the others had woken, and Isabella had showered and dressed. She was wearing a short, lavender skirt and a tight, cream tank top. Her hair was down, but she had tied back some of the locks in front into a half-ponytail and finished it off with a thin purple ribbon. I couldn't help but smile. Her beauty was contagious, infecting the rest of the world with her perfection.

Feeling very average and inadequate next to her in simple jeans and a white button up, I gave her a quick hug and went to relieve my brother. I finished the maple-infused bacon while he dressed before coming back to help me finish the nutella-chip pancakes. When the meal was done being prepared, the group gathered to eat out on the patio in the sun. I sat on a chaise lounge with Isabella and announced our plan.

"Guys, I know what we're going to do next month. How would you all like to go back to Europe?" I started before elaborating on some of the stops we could make and possible means of unorthodox transportation.

There was a surprisingly mixed reception of this idea. Buford and Baljeet seemed totally behind it, but the Fireside Girls seemed iffy, and Ferb just looked skeptical of my motives, which confused me. What could be wrong with my motives?

"Why don't we stay behind and plan a return party, like last time? I'm sure we could make this one huge, and we have a training camp to teach that week anyway." Ginger reasoned.

Isabella slapped her forehead. "Of course! The camp!" She cast a begging glance at Gretchen. "Is there any way you could do it without me?"

"Absolutely, Chief. I earned my Doing Things Without Assistance patch _years_ ago." Gretchen smiled reassuringly. "You go have fun with the boys." She may have winked at Isabella, but I couldn't be sure, or tell why she would have in the first place.

Isabella sighed with relief. "Thanks. Gretchen, I hereby name you temporary leader of Fireside Girls Troop 46321 in the event of my prolonged absence from duty next month." She turned back to me. "Okay, so I'm free. When should we start planning?"

I smiled down at her. "As soon as you want."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:**

Yes, I understand that it's been more than a week since I've worked on this story. It's the end of the quarter and my family has been dealing with some health stuff. It's all okay now, and I'll write more over spring break, which will be the next two weeks.

**DISCLAIMER: **I'm fully aware that I own nothing. Does anyone else find it strange that, even on a website designated specifically for use by _fans_, we still have to reiterate this?

**On to the story…**

The next few weeks were fairly busy. Isabella had thrown herself headlong into mapping out every hour of our trip. I wasn't allowed to see the timetable, or even be told where we would be stopping, which I found uncomfortable since _I_ had intended to plan this vacation for _her_. Once again, however, I was at the mercy of my inability to deny her something she wanted.

All I was told was that we needed a vehicle that would be sturdy enough to transport us a hundred or so miles every other day if need be, as well as to Europe and back, _without_ falling to pieces and stranding us in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Again. Considering the extreme excess of time with which I had to put said vehicle together, I had pulled out all the stops. Ferb and I had constructed something of a self-piloting luxury jet/hovercraft/cruise liner type craft. A small sampling of the many features included a fully stocked spa and sauna, a home theater with deluxe snack bar, a pool and hot tub, a restaurant with a robotic wait staff, and (for old time's sake) a series of elaborate roller coasters that served as room-to-room transportation. We had designed it to collapse into a convenient cube, about one foot long on each edge, so that I would store conveniently in our closet. We wouldn't want it blocking the sun over Mom's flower garden until our departure.

When I told Mom and Dad that Ferb and I wanted to take our friends to London to visit our grandparents, they had thoroughly supported the idea, so much so that they encouraged us to leave a week early, so that we would have time to help Grandpa re-do the wood flooring in their home. I hadn't quite understood how flooring necessitated a whole week, but perhaps it would give Isabella time to visit more cities, and I loved the idea of spending an hour or so helping out Grandpa, so we rescheduled to leave a week early. Ferb and I were thrilled that Mom and Dad had so heartily approved of our trip. And we hadn't even had to tell them about the rest of the Europe trip to persuade them!

The loss of a week of planning had seriously put me and my brother behind schedule. On the eve of our departure, we were just finishing up the final touches on the indoor ski slope when Isabella came over to run over our final checklist.

"And you're absolutely sure we have enough fuel?" Isabella asked worriedly, curled up in an airplane seat nearly twice the size of a typical first-class chair. We were in the more traditional portion of the craft, fashioned to look like the cabin of a regular old private jet, but with a few touches of my own design to accommodate optimal comfort. She was tucked up opposite me with her clipboard and pencil, checking and double-checking our supplies and trip itinerary.

"Isabella, it runs solely on salt-water and gets 137 miles to the gallon. So long as we have access to the ocean, or even just sea salt and tap water, this thing will fly."

She let out a tiny sigh, and I could see her trying to release the stress in her shoulders. "Okay, I trust you not to let us get stranded." I frowned and punched a button on the wall. Hands extended from her chair and began working the knots out of her neck. She breathed again, more relaxed. "I know I shouldn't worry. I just don't want a repeat of our trip around the world." It seemed like there was more to her statement than just the obvious fear for her life, but I didn't figure that it was worth prying. Whenever she got that sad, wistful tone, the best I could figure was that it meant something was wrong but she didn't think telling me would fix whatever it was. It killed me, knowing she thought I was incapable of easing her pain, and I tried anyway, but there was only so much I could do without information. It was like trying to cure a disease that I couldn't diagnose, but harder because I couldn't just give her one of the cure-all Homeostasis Pills that Ferb and I had invented two years ago when Candace got bronchitis. Emotions didn't work that way, I had eventually come to learn.

"I threw that trip together in less than twenty minutes, and I didn't have you planning it for me. This one is three weeks in the making. I've thought of everything, and you've filled in any gaps that I missed. This is going to go off flawlessly. Besides, I spent more time booking Clay Aiken than working on the plane last time around." I laughed lightly, and she grinned just a bit. "Isabella, I wanted this trip to be fun for you. Please don't let it stress you out."

She smiled, genuinely this time. "Okay, Phineas. You're right, this is going to be fun! I can't wait until you see what I have planned."

"When are you going to tell me where we're going, anyway? I need to plot coordinates."

She giggled. "Oh, come on, you don't think I know how to program autopilot by now? Please. And even if I didn't, I could just have Ferb do it for me."

"Wait! Ferb gets to know and I don't? How is that fair?" I gaped at the injustice.

"Oh, relax. This will be good for you. You'll see."

I shook my head. "I'm failing to see how."

She laughed again and stood. "Alright, you can sit here and complain about fairness, but I have to get home and finish packing."

It was my turn to laugh. "No you don't. Gretchen took care of your wardrobe for you. Your room on-board is already fully stocked with copies of all of your favorite outfits, along with some new additions of various cultural styles to fit in with the locals wherever we may go. I also had her include some dresses of several different formalities, just in case."

Isabella nodded, impressed. "Well, I should go home, anyway. I think my mom would like to see me again before I leave."

Understanding, I pressed a button and the roof opened, revealing the exit zip-line. I stood with her and wrapped my arm around her waist before grapping a handle with my other hand and sliding us to the ground.

I walked her home as usual, but she paused at the bottom of her walk. She turned to face me, brushing her hair back and looking down at the ground. "Phineas, I… Thanks. For putting this together for me."

I smiled warmly. "Hey, I'm having fun with this! We should go on vacation more often."

She grinned, seemingly… sheepish? "Um, yeah, I'd like that." She was quiet for a moment. Her teeth worked her lower lip. It was strangely distracting…

"Um, well, I had better get back home," I stammered, scratching the back of my neck.

"Oh, yes, of course." She stretched up to hug me, her arms around my neck. She released me sooner than I would have liked and headed up her walk. When she opened the door, she turned to face me again. "So, I'll see you a sunrise tomorrow?"

"Mhmm," I answered, weirdly distracted. I could have agreed to quit building things and I wouldn't have realized it for a few seconds.

"Okay. Good night, Phineas."

When the door clicked shut, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and headed back across the road. I couldn't shake the vague ache in my arms. It was like they missed Isabella, missed the feeling of being wrapped around her waist. I could only chalk this up to the understandable fear of losing her. She had left so abruptly when she moved to Italy, with maybe a week's notice beforehand. I must just be worried that she was going to vanish suddenly again, or maybe decide that she wanted to go back to Italy. My subconscious was just trying to memorize all the little things about her, in case I lost her again. Yeah, that made sense. That must be it. Right?


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:**

Yes! Yes, I do in fact realize how horrible of a person I am. I've gone a month without writing. I have my reasons. But then, that's none of your beeswax, is it, dear reader? O.o

Just so y'all know, I'm going to start writing the date when each chapter takes place at the top, for reference. Also, it will help me keep track of my own mind. Let's say school got out and the first chapter happened on June 7th of this year, 2013.

This chapter is not proofread. Don't hate.

**DISCLAIMER:** For the somethingth time, I don't own P&F.

**Monday, July 1****st****, 2013**

The Craft had been unfurled from its storage cube form and prepped for flight at 7 in the morning. By 7:15 we were ready for departure, which had been scheduled for 7:30. By 7:31, Isabella still had yet to show up.

"Calm down, or you're going to wear a track in the lawn." Ferb muttered absently as he passed me on his way into the Craft. I had been pacing for about ten minutes without realizing it. I sat down against the house and ran my fingers, frustrated, through my bright red hair. This wasn't like Isabella! She was always wherever she needed to be at least 15 minutes before she had to. Something had to be wrong. She would never be this late! Even if it _was_ just a minute.

"That's it. I'm going to go check on her," I called out to my brother and stood. I jogged across the street and knocked on the door. When there was no answer, it took me another moment to remember that Isabella's parents had left two days ago to visit family in Chicago. My worry grew as the silence after my knock stretched on. Eventually my concern became too great and I went for the spare key that I didn't know about as far as Mrs. Garcia-Shapiro was concerned. Feeling like a complete creep, I walked around the house, listening for any signs of life. Pinky ran up to me barking when I reached the kitchen, so any attempt at a stealth mission was ruined. Don't misunderstand, Pinky liked me, which was unusual, but he still barked. It just meant he was glad to see me.

The Chihuahua had come from Isabella's room, so I made my way to her end of the house, dog yapping at my heels all the way. I came to appreciate this seconds later, however, because my panic was lifted as a result.

"Pinky, what in the name of..." Isabella's groggy voice came from her bedroom. "Pinky! Stop barking! I'm trying to sleep, baby."

I snickered quietly as I picked the little dog up and headed for the laundry room where his food dish was kept. I filled it and place him, now quite content, in front of the kibble before returning to Isabella's room. I opened the door silently and saw my best friend curled into a ball on her bed with her back to me. The long black tangle of her hair was splayed across the pillow and I could hear her familiar, faint snoring. Careful not to disturb her, I sat on the bed and stroked her hair gently, like I always did to wake her up.

"Isabella," I whispered gently, leaning in close to her ear. "Did you forget the date?"

"Oh, Phineas," she mumbled. Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling softly. "How could I ever forget our date night?" She rolled over and grabbed my hand, seeming to sink back into her dreams.

I scratched my ear. "Um, Isabella, it's morning, not night. You need to get up, sleepyhead, we're all waiting on you. We're expected in London in six hours, and I don't think you'd like to be late."

_Late_. That's what seemed to bring her to. Her eyes flashed open, wild.

"Phineas?" She noticed her grasp on my and let go, scooting into a sitting position. "Phineas, what time is it?"

I glanced at her wall clock. "About 7:40."

Her hand flew to her mouth. "We're behind schedule! We have to leave _now_." She jumped out of bed and dashed to her vanity to try and force her hair into submission. "Shoot, I don't have time for this." She spun to face me. "This is crazy. I can't get ready to leave this fast!"

I shook my head. "Don't worry about it. You can get ready on the craft."

She nodded, but her brow was still pinched. "Oh, okay. Just let me remind Gretchen of a few things first." She whipped out her phone and started typing wildly, but I strode over and took it from her. I pulled her to her feet and down the hall by her hand.

"I said not to worry. Gretchen knows what she's doing."

"Right, right, of course." She nodded, but I could see that she wasn't calm, so I stopped us on the threshold of her front door. I gripped her shoulders and held her gaze until she let herself take a breath.

"Isabella, this trip is _for you_. We have no deadlines. We have no specific destination. We have three weeks to do whatever we want, and what _I_ want is for _you_ to let go and _relax_. Do you understand?" She sighed and nodded, and I smiled at her. "Okay, good. Now, would you please stop panicking and let me get you to Europe."

She smiled. "Yeah, okay." Satisfied, I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled the still-sleepy girl toward my house.

"There you are!" Ferb hailed us when we showed up. "Let's go before we wake up Mum and Dad."

"Yeah, let's get moving," I agreed as I carried Isabella into the main cabin on the zip-line-ski-lift thing. "Can you handle take-off on your own, Ferb? I'm going to help Isabella get settled."

My brother nodded and gestured at his phone. I gathered that he wanted me to call ahead and make sure that Grandpa and Grandma Fletcher knew to expect us a bit late.

"Yeah, I'll check in with them." With that, I pulled a drowsy Isabella to the rollercoaster that lead below deck. The ride woke her up a little, but not much.

The residential floor was constructed to seem like the hallway of a hotel or cruise liner: long, and windowless, with doors on either side and on the far end. Buford and Baljeet's rooms were the first two in the hall opposite each other, Isabella and I had the next two, and Ferb's was at the end of the hall at the front of the craft and below the cockpit. Each room had floor-to-ceiling windows, a drop-down TV the size of one of the walls, a master bathroom, and a mini-bar. Apart from that though, every room was unique and designed specifically to fit the style and preferences of its occupant. Isabella's, for example, was painted in soft lavenders and pale pinks with plush furniture and carpeting. The walls were lined with bookshelves and photo frames, and in one corner was a spiral staircase leading down into her closet, which was the same size as the main room.

I sat Isabella's bed while she showered and dressed. When she came back up to join me she was wearing white shorts with a purple button up shirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows. Her hair was down and straight, cold against my shoulder from the shower when she stretched out next to me.

Isabella stared absently out the windows for a while. When the ground far below us gave way to ocean, she finally spoke. "I've decided to give you today, this _one day_, to control our schedule or lack thereof. So… captain, my captain." We both smiled at this. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, at this rate we're set to arrive at about 7 PM, London time. I thought we'd eat all eat lunch in about an hour or two, so we'll be ready to eat dinner with my grandparents when we get there. Beyond that, we do whatever we want, really." I stroked her damp hair encouragingly. She nibbled her lip nervously, a habit that I had yet to figure out the cause of.

"So… _Whatever_ we want?"

I raised my eyebrow, unsure of what she meant. Then an idea of what she might be suggesting occurred to me and I felt my face warm. _No, Phineas! She means what _she_ wants, not what _you_ want. Not that you want that… Or do you? Gah! I don't know! It's Isabella, regardless. She's your best friend! Put it out of your mind, and don't you dare let it back in!_

"Um… Yeah, I thinking… Uh, bowling or… shuffleboard! Yes, things like that, you know?" I stammered very un-smooth like. I scratched my ear, my nervous tick, and rolled off the bed. "You want to, uh, go see what Ferb is doing?"

Isabella cocked her head, confused by my behavior, I guessed. "Yeah, sure, I guess." She rose and passed me, leading the way back down the hall. Her scent hit me as she walked by, thoroughly scrambling my thoughts for a moment. Shaking my head to clear it, I followed.

This woman. My best friend. She wasn't the same as when we were little, but she was still the same girl. How could I be thinking about her this way, even if only for a moment? Beyond that, though, there was a strange new feeling, foreign and unfamiliar. It came when I remembered that she was too sensible to think of me that way, ever.

It had always made me so happy that Isabella saw me as her best friend. So why on Earth did that knowledge suddenly hurt?


End file.
